Like a Rolling Hurricane
by Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show
Summary: Sarah spends ten months, two weeks, and four days in Haven.


**I swear I never meant for this to become as long as it did.**

* * *

In August, Sarah arrives in Haven, all bright curls and wide smiles.

It's hot when she steps off the ship, but not as hot as D.C was. Maine hot is nice, it warms her skin in the most pleasant way. D.C hot was muggy, sweaty, a gross humidity that hangs in the air all day.

The heat dissipates in the hospital; the halls are cold and sterile, and the familiar medicinal smell is somehow comforting.

She meets Nathan not two hours after she arrives in Haven. She doesn't know it then, of course, but he sets everything in motion.

He's kind and mysterious, and he looks at her like no other man has before. Like he wants to pick her apart, turn her inside out to find everything he can.

He looks at her like he's loved her for years, and for an afternoon she lets herself believe it.

She's not a foolish girl, she knows what can come of it. The other nurses she worked with in the war used to say they had all sorts of methods for preventing pregnancies. _ Out here we have to look out for ourselves, don't we? _they'd whisper, and her cheeks would flush and she'd duck her head.

She'd been so wide-eyed when she was first sent out. War was another world, so far from the open plains of home.

Sarah had always been a quick learner, though. Soon enough she stopped blushing at their comments and avoiding their questions. She'd listened to that strong beat of desire, the way it ran through her veins and told her what she wanted. _Who_ she wanted.

She feels it burst inside of her when she touches Nathan's hand, knows it's shining out of her eyes as she strokes his cheek.

She wants him, as much as she's ever wanted anything else. She doesn't regret it, not for a second, even when he bids her goodbye and leaves her with more questions than answers.

She puts Stuart to bed and goes home. The remnants of today are washed away when she strips off her uniform and takes a long, hot bath. She hangs the dress up in the closet, ironing out the wrinkles so it stays pristine.

As she lays down to sleep she pretends to not think of Nathan's hands, of the way he breathed into her neck. She reviews the weeks schedule in her head, but somewhere the back of her brain is screaming that today she met not one, but _two_ time-travelers, and that somehow she has a greater purpose here. She's meant to be in Haven, she's meant to help people.

She wakes up the next morning, dresses and leaves for the hospital without stopping to consider everything that happened. No good will come of dwelling on these sorts of things, this she knows for sure.

—

Sarah goes on a date with one of the doctors from the hospital in September. He's a nice enough man, with white teeth and perfectly brushed hair. He takes her to a restaurant, and after he drives her up to the pier. They sit and watch the sunset together, and she lets him take her hand but when he leans in for a kiss she turns slightly, and he's enough of a gentleman to pretend it never happened.

She sees him nearly every week but he never mentions their date. He starts going with one of the other nurses soon enough, and Sarah finds she doesn't really care.

—

The second week of October she wakes up at 5 am and barely makes it to the bathroom before she empties last night's dinner into the toilet.

Sarah closes her eyes and counts to fifteen, which always used to work when she felt queasy on the battlefields, but somehow fails her this time.

She skips breakfast, brushes her teeth half a dozen times, then leaves.

She's gotten used to working at the hospital. There's comfort in routine, she thinks. She likes knowing the names of the other nurses, likes knowing where everything is. Likes not having to _ask_ for help.

She likes the routine of stopping by the newspaper office after work as well. The two boys who work there, Vince and Dave, both far too young for the way they talk, have taken to her quickly. She knows what the housewives have already begun to whisper, she doesn't even work for the paper yet she spends all her time the company of two young men.

Sarah never bothered with gossip in high school, she certainly isn't going to start now.

The Teagues prove to be useful in helping her locate the troubled, as Nathan called them. When something inexplicable happens, which unfortunately is every week in Haven, she knows it's one of them.

Vince and Dave tell her the troubles had gone away for a while, for decades even. It was only recently that they began again. The troubled can't help themselves most of the time. She teaches them to control their abilities, helps them move on.

Somehow she balances all that with working at the hospital, and it's a wonder she ever finds time to sleep.

She loses track of the days until she opens the door to the Herald and Vince is wearing a mask over his eyes and a white hat and Dave has some box balanced on his head.

"What on earth is wrong with you two?" She laughs, and they meet her with puzzled looks.

"Halloween."

Sarah pauses in unwrapping her scarf, a frown crossing her face. "Already?" She asks, because that can't be right. Has she been here over _two months_?

"Where's your costume?" Dave grins, and she's about to ask him just what exactly is _he_ wearing, when the everything clicks in her head.

Two months. Nausea. Her recent fatigue.

She rushes out of the Herald's office without buttoning up her coat again. She hops into her car and drives until she reaches Derry, mind blank. She can't even think of the possibilities, can't give them a name because that makes them real.

It's a sickness, she tells herself. She works at a hospital, it's entirely possible she just caught something.

She's flustered when she arrives at the Derry hospital, but she musters her calmest voice and asks clearly to see a doctor.

The exam's quick; the doctor prods her stomach and checks her pulse. Sarah picks at the edge of her dress as he fills out the papers, praying to a God she's given up on that she's contracted some deadly disease.

"Well," He begins, pulling a cigarette box out of his pocket. "We'll have to wait for the test, but I'd say yes."

"Yes?" She echoes softly, and he loots around in the desk for a moment.

"Yes, you're expecting." He pulls out a lighter and gives her a toothy grin. "Better run home and tell your husband, hm?"

Sarah nods, but it feels like her throat has closed up. Her mouth is dry, her skin clammy, and she barely thanks the doctor on her way out.

She makes it to the car as fast as she can, slamming the door shut. She takes a deep breath, counts to fifteen slow and steady, then lets the tears fall.

—

She doesn't tell anyone. Partially because she doesn't have anyone to tell, but mostly because she knows what they will say.

She's unwed. Young. She has foolish dreams of making a career for herself, and of course she's ruined everything.

She goes to work and she tries to act like nothing's wrong, but it's eating at her. Every day she worries someone will point it out, like she's walking around with a great big sign that reads _harlot_ on her forehead.

Despite it all she still can't regret that day. She thinks of Nathan more and more, late at night when it's hard to sleep, slow days at work where she almost drifts off, whenever her life _isn't_ consumed with the troubles and the people she needs to save.

She wonders where he is now, what he's doing. What he went back to, and more importantly _who_ he went back to. If he ever thinks of her. Misses her.

One day she slips up and daydreams of a life for the two of them, in a world where he stayed to be with her, where he loved her, where they raise a family.

She catches herself and tries to shake it off, but the image leaves her feeling hollow inside. From then on she tries to block out all thoughts of him, all her secret wishes. _He's gone_, she tells herself._ He's not coming back._

—

The nausea doesn't abate for weeks. She finds herself sprinting to the bathroom most afternoons at work, but if anyone notices they don't say a thing.

In November Vince and Dave present her with a curious birthday present; an old newspaper clipping with a fuzzy image of a group of people, pressed tight together at some formal event. They point to the woman on the left, and it takes some squinting, but she sees why they've given this to her.

"She looks like me." Sarah whispers, and they both nod eagerly. She pulls the paper closer, focuses on the grainy picture. The woman's sporting a dark bob, but the broad smile and the clear eyes are too strikingly similar to ignore.

"Maybe a family member?" Vince pipes up. "You said you never knew your parents-" Dave glares at him and he cuts off, but Sarah isn't even listening.

She glances at the date on the top of the page- it's nearly 30 years old, and yet it looks as if someone could have snapped the same expression on her face yesterday. Something unsettling pricks at her neck when she looks at the picture, so she folds it in half, stuffing in the pocket of her coat.

Suddenly bile begins to rise in her throat, and she snatches up her gloves, thanking the boys as she quickly runs for the door.

When she gets back to her motel room she stuffs the paper in the bottom of a drawer, under a stack of blouses. There's something intriguing about it, a mystery to be solved, but she's got plenty of mystery in her life right now. She can leave this for another day.

—

In December her belly starts to swell. She can't button her uniform right in the middle, so she leaves it gaping and puts a sweater on overtop, hoping no one will notice.

At least she still fits into her nightgowns, and as she lays in bed she drifts her hands over the small bump as lightly as she can.

It's not much, but it's becoming more noticeable by the day.

Every night the same thought enters her mind, that she could just solve this problem in a few easy steps.

Vicky, one of her closest friends in the corps, told her one night of how she'd gotten pregnant just a year out of college. Her boyfriend had run off soon after, and she knew there was only one real option.

_It's easy_, Vicky promised._ It hardly even hurts. And the blood's not so bad. Nothing like what you see out here._

Sarah feels a tremendous guilt when she remembers that conversation, and she covers her bump with her hand and whispers _you're safe_.

When she's feeling brave she says _I love you_, but it's under her breath, as if someone else is listening.

She's not a teenager, she's a grown woman, with a career, and a proper life. She can raise a child.

_I won't be afraid_, she tells herself, and even if it's a lie it helps her sleep at night.

—

She finally tells Vince and Dave just before Christmas. They're the closest things she has to friends, and she figures she might as well have _someone_ in her corner.

They take in the news with gaping mouths, turning to one another in confusion. Both are silent for a moment, before Vince awkwardly clears his throat.

"Oh?" He asks, like she's just told him she's going shopping that afternoon. _Oh?_

"Yes." Sarah purses her lips, but still they sit there in silence. She can hear the click of the clock on the wall, the creaking of the old chair as Vince fidgets.

Dave at last breaks the quiet. "You look like it." He offers, before realizing that was probably _not_ the best thing to say. "I mean, you look- different? I just wondered, uh, if something- I was… I don't mean-" His mumbles grow quieter and quieter as Vince gives him a sharp stare, and Sarah laughs openly. The brothers shift uncomfortably, but she can't help it and her giggles continues to bubble out.

He's right, unsurprisingly. She spends every morning in front of the mirror now, studying her own reflection. Her stomach has grown considerably, and while she can still hide it under a thick jacket, in her regular dresses it's clear to see. It's a wonder they hadn't mentioned anything before.

She puts Vince and Dave out of their misery and finally quiets, stifling the last of her chuckles under her hand. The boys awkwardly glance down at the floor, the bell above the door, anywhere but her.

She waits for the questions, but they don't come. They don't ask if there's a father. They don't even ask what she's planning to do. They give it a few more seconds of silence, then they pull out a stack of files and launch into an explanation about what's been happening to a troubled family living down by the docks.

—

Sarah's fired from the hospital on January 2nd. She knew this day would come eventually, it was just a matter of how long she could hide it before she was forced to come clean.

Her supervisor gives her a look that makes her skin crawl as he scribbles something down on a piece of paper, and she can read everything he wants to say clear on his face.

"You know, Sarah," He starts, looking up at her with hooded eyes. "I almost expected this from some of the other girls. Not from you."

She bites her tongue and stands stock still. He can think what he likes, the whole town can condemn her if they want. It won't change anything.

—

January in Maine is about as brutal as she would have imagined, but even with all her layers her protruding stomach is noticeable. She feels their stares as she walks down the streets, imagines what they whisper to one another. She's built enough of a reputation trying to help the troubled, but this only increases her notoriety.

Luckily for a small town, Haven experiences too many strange events for the talk to stay stagnant for long. She's the controversial topic among the woman's club one week, but soon enough they move onto the odd sounds coming from the woods and the abandoned warehouse that burned down. So many stories, so little time.

It seems the troubles are getting worse somehow; they're harder to control, more deadly. She has a hard time keeping up with it all when every day there's a new problem.

At least without her job at the hospital she can spend her days with Vince and Dave. The Teagues are a great help, she wouldn't be able to do anything without them. She wishes she could be more open with them, but they're too young to understand some things. Sarah figures she's only about ten years older than Vince but they're still such children at times.

And yet sometimes she catches Vince looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and the emotion in his gaze makes her falter. He never tries anything, but sometimes she wishes he would, just so she could disavow him of the entire idea.

—

February brings even more problems, which Sarah didn't think was possible.

She goes shopping one morning at the market, and the old man who runs the fruit stand does a double take as he looks at her.

"Ruth?" He asks, and she starts to inch away before he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am, it's just that you look _exactly_ like someone I knew a long… long time ago."

Sarah doesn't know what to say to that, so she pays for the fruit and rushes back to the motel. It's only after she crawls into bed that she remembers that picture Vince and Dave showed her, of the woman who looked just like her.

_Ruth._ Maybe she is a family member. Maybe she's still out there.

Sarah wakes early the next morning and digs out the picture from the depths of her dresser. She head back to the market just as their setting up, and this time the old man is much happier to see her.

"I'm sorry if I scared you yesterday." He smiles, and something about the wrinkles in his face seem familiar.

"It's okay." She pulls out the picture and smooths it before presenting it to him, her finger tapping the face of the woman. "Is that Ruth?"

The man nods, his face contemplative. "Yes. God, I haven't seen her in… Thirty years? Nearly." He frowns suddenly, then quickly hands the paper back to her. "She a relative of yours?"

"I'm hoping I can find out." Sarah smiles at him, but he seems to be caught up in his own thoughts. "You knew her?"

He nods, then turns away from her and resumes unloading his carts. She looks down at the picture, matching the face to the name.

"What happened to her?"

The man shrugs, his back still turned to her. "She disappeared. Long time ago. Never came back." He pauses, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "It was odd, though. The way it happened."

She takes a small step forward, laces her fingers together behind her back. "The way what happened?"

He looks upset all of a sudden, and Sarah wonders if Ruth left behind some unpleasant memories.

"There was a big meteor storm the last day she was in town. Half the town was destroyed, almost. Of course it was a lot smaller back then. We rebuilt."

Sarah racks her brain, but she can't remember ever hearing about a meteor storm in Haven before.

"After a few days, somebody realized she was gone." He glances up at her and his focus shifts suddenly. It feels like he's studying her, and she straightens her spine, returns his gaze.

"And now you're here. Odd, isn't it?" He smiles slightly, then walks off to get the rest of his supplies from the truck.

_Odd indeed_. Of course, it was far from the first oddity in Haven.

She gets Vince and Dave to look through the Herald's old files for any information on a meteor shower. It takes nearly a whole day, but finally they come up with an issue from 1928 that details the damages done to the town following a freak meteor storm.

There's no specifics about the event itself, however. It leaves her with a sense of dread._ What could have happened to Ruth? _

And if they were somehow related, what did that mean for her?

—

February has it's nice moments as well.

One day she's woken in the early hours of the morning, and at first she thinks it's because the couple in the room next door is arguing loudly again, but then she feels it.

The baby's kicking, and it's the most curious sensation. She places her hand on her stomach and jolts as it happens again and again.

Sarah smiles widely in the dark of the room, counting the seconds between the baby's motions. It stills after a minute, but she keeps her hand resting on top, rubbing her fingers over her skin gently.

"_I love you."_ She says, finally audible, and after a moment the baby gives one last kick.

—

The first week of March she spends three days at the library, reading old town history books. Most of the information is as boring as she could imagine: when the lighthouse was built, who was elected mayor in what year, when prosperous businesses died out. She doesn't find any real information until the last day, when she cracks open a record of illnesses that have hit the town.

A large section is devoted to Spanish flu in the late 1910s, but it's the short page after that catches her attention. There's a brief blurb about a unnamed plague killing over 20 people in 1901, and the accompanying picture, which appears to have been pasted in from a newspaper, shows a crowd of people at a funeral. And just in the right hand corner she finds what she's looking for.

The woman's turning her head slightly to the side, but Sarah can recognize her own face looking out at her, even on the dusty pages of an ancient book.

It's unbelievable, it _shouldn't_ be possible, but somehow here it is.

Did_ this_ woman disappear too? What was her name? Where did she come from? _What happened to her?_

—

By early April she spends less time chasing the troubles, and more time complying with the doctor's order for bed rest. She can get around fine, but her gait is slow, and standing on her feet for more than 20 minutes is as tiring as running a mile.

Sarah takes to walking outside in the warm weather though, taking breaks often to rest her feet. It's calming to be outdoors, especially when she's alone. No one bothers her much, and she has time to relax, something she hasn't done since she set foot in Haven.

One day she travels further than she usually does, down through the woods and out to an open green clearing. She's pausing a minute to catch her breath when she spots it, appearing just as if it rises up out of the fog.

There's nothing particularly significant about an old, withered barn, but the instant she lays her eyes on it, all the pieces seem to click in her head.

Sarah holds her hand over her stomach and turns from the sight, fear creeping down her spine.

_This is it_, she thinks as she makes her way back home. _This is my end_.

—

She tries to explain it to the Teagues but she can't quite find the words. It's a feeling, a premonition of some kind. She knows what's going to happen.

There's going to be another meteor shower, and she's going to have to disappear. Just like Ruth, and all the women who came before her.

She has to go into that barn, and she has to vanish. And for whatever reason, that stops the troubles. That saves everyone.

_Well, almost everyone_.

The baby kicks, as if it can sense her distress, and her hand flies to rub at her belly again.

Sarah doesn't fear going away. It's happened before, and it appears it will continue to happen, no matter what she does. She's a part of a cycle, a wheel that's continuously turning.

She fears abandoning her child; she fears never seeing it again. She _wants_ to be a mother, wants to be there for every injury, every triumph. She doesn't want to desert someone she's already loved for so long.

—

In the early hours of May 16th she goes into labor. The Teagues rush her to the hospital but gracefully leave shortly after she's admitted. The whole process is much quicker than she expected, having assisted in plenty of births that took well over 10 hours.

But her baby's more than ready it seems. Even the pain is less than she'd thought it would be, although she does shout a profanity or two at her poor doctor.

Still, everything fades away as they lift him up for her to see. He cries out, loud and clear, and she wants to do the same, wants to scream to heavens _look what I did!_ _Look at my son!_

The nurses wrap him up and place him in her arms. He weighs next to nothing, feather light against her, and she holds him close and watches him wiggle about in the blanket. He's so beautiful, so perfect. Nothing she will ever do from this moment out will compare.

—

While in the hospital she reconnects with one of the nurses she used to work with. Her name's Louise; sweet girl, but a bit naive. She coos over the baby and tells Sarah how much the other girls miss her, which is no doubt a lie, but a nice one.

Louise is from Colorado, she learns. Small town, middle of nowhere. She goes on and on about how nice it was there, how she's going back at the end of the month.

"Visiting my cousin, such a nice girl. Just got married last year. She's been trying to get pregnant for _ages_. Wants a kid more than anything." Louise sticks out her finger and the baby grasps it, causing her to dissolve into giggles. "He's _precious_. What's his name?"

"James." Sarah swallows hard, her mind already formulating an idea. Even as she thinks about it it hurts inside, and she wonders if you can feel physical pain over a heartache.

Louise smiles broadly at her, shifting the baby in her arms. "James Vernon. Very handsome."

She nods slightly, but as Louise starts speaking again she barely listens, her mind whirling.

It'll be painful, she knows this for sure. It will be unlike anything she's ever experienced, worse than any wound. But she won't regret it, not if she knows he's safe.

By the time she's released a week later Sarah already knows what she's going to do. She's made up her mind, she can't turn back now. No matter how it hurts, she'll follow through.

—

Louise takes some cajoling, but eventually Sarah convinces her to shuttle James to Colorado with her. She can't explain why, but she knows she needs to get him out of here. Troubles or not, Haven isn't safe.

The night before Louise leaves Sarah stays up and rocks him in her arms as he tries to fight sleep. She watches his clear blue eyes blink slowly, hears him sigh as he loses the battle.

She strokes his smooth cheek and he reaches for her finger, waving his tiny hands in the air.

"Good night." She whispers, touching her lips to his head. "I love you, James."

—

She doesn't tell anyone, not even the Teagues, what happens to him. Louise leaves early in the morning, with a hug and a promise that she'll come back and tell her how he's doing.

Sarah manages to hold back the tears until she reaches the motel room again. She sinks down onto the bed and they come hot and fast, falling down her cheeks, dripping from her nose. It feels as if something was ripped from her, a piece of herself she'll never get back.

She curls up on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and cries and cries. She doesn't feel ashamed or embarrassed; if there was ever a time, it's now.

Sarah cries for her son, and for all the time they'll never spend together. She cries for herself, for the knowledge that one day soon she's going to disappear off the face of the earth. She cries for Haven itself, a town built on secrets and mystery. She cries until she can't cry any more, until her face is red and her body's stopped shaking.

—

In June, Sarah leaves Haven. There's no fuss, no big scene. The Teagues give one last ditch effort to help her, but nothing works.

It's okay, though. She can hold her head high and meet her fate; she's not afraid anymore. The barn feels somehow like coming home, she thinks.

There's nothing left for her in Haven. Not anymore.


End file.
